The Lake
by Got Tea
Summary: Boyd and Grace take a relaxing, waterside holiday. My response to the Seaside Challenge. Complete.


**My response to the Seaside challenge. It's a few days late due to working a long set of nights, but it was finished on time if that counts. Enjoy. xx**

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**The Lake**

**…**

It's not a beach in the traditional sense, not by any stretch of the imagination, but as he watches the gentle lapping of the water against the sandy banks of the lake, Boyd has to admit to himself that Grace has well and truly outdone herself this time. The deep, crystal-clear water is warm enough to swim in, and the wild mixture of exotic trees, flowers and bushes are flourishing under the azure sky as the heat of the day begins to ease a little. Across the vast expanse of water the sun is beginning to sink from its high position, rays of light darting through the scattering of white, fluffy clouds in a manner that indicates there might be a truly memorable sunset later.

Pausing to consider the idea, he finds that it's a very agreeable one. There's a towel in the tote bag he has been dutifully lugging along as they've walked the picturesque trail that was agreed upon over breakfast; it'll do nicely to sit on and watch as the sky changes colour and darkens. Images of her sitting in front of him, tucked cosily against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, her head resting back against his shoulder flit through his mind, tempting him.

It's far from disagreeable.

In fact, this entire expedition and concept of relaxing amongst nature is quite agreeable. Which he knows he'll be admitting out loud before the day is done. She was right.

She usually is.

Deep in his musings, he's lost track of her. That won't do.

There's a tumble of rocks to his left that run along the shore, the water splashing softly against their solid grey edges, and abandoned on the sand beside them are a pair of familiar navy sandals. Further up, standing quietly among the chunky boulders, Grace is a slim profile of happiness and calm, the tiniest of breezes blowing her flattering summer dress against a body that is slowly filling out again, hints of her once gentle curves slowly returning as she gains back weight.

That dress, caught somewhere between midnight blue and dark grey, is something else, he muses as he moves closer, studies her intently. All day he's been obsessing about it, has been creating excuses to touch her, to run his fingers over the delicate fabric. It's simple, summery and unbelievably elegant on her, and he's damn sure he's never seen it before. Because there's no way he'd have forgotten seeing it wrapped around her. Not this one.

"There are tiny fish in the water. I can see them darting about just there…"

She doesn't need to look to know he's there, and that makes his heart lift.

She just knows!

"And a minute ago I saw a little crab scuttling across the rocks."

It's almost childish, her excitement, but Boyd finds it sweet. Heart-warming. Relaxed and happy, she looks gorgeous, her skin lightly bronzed where she's picked up a hint of a tan over the last few lazy days they've spent exploring this mysterious, colourful location.

Grace steps towards him, and she looks so happy he thinks his knees might give way.

After all this time, it means everything.

Everything.

In perfect harmony she reaches down as he reaches up and, hands on her waist, Boyd can feel the slenderness of her build. Still underweight and a little bony, but there is muscle there, too. Pilates, swimming, daily walks… she's been following a strict diet and exercise regime designed to help her build up her strength and stamina. It's working, too. Even just a few weeks ago she would never have managed to stay out all day without a break.

The thought makes him decide they will definitely be staying to watch the sunset. That his vision of sitting snuggled up with her beside the water will happen. It's too tempting, too alluring not to.

Grace smiles, and he takes that as his cue, lifts her gently from the rock and lowers her until she's standing right in front of him. Small, delicate hands naturally come to rest on his shoulders, that gorgeous smile becoming even sunnier as she tilts her head back, looks up at him, the blue of her irises twinkling in that way they only ever do for him. Boyd tightens his arms, tucks her gently into his chest and inhales, his head bending to rest against hers.

There's the steady pattern of her breathing, the answering movement of her arms as she tucks them around his neck. She smells of sun and flowers and fresh air. She's warm, and she fits him perfectly. He even enjoys the tickle of her hair against his cheek.

She's his, still his.

And she's not going anywhere.

He could let go, but he doesn't. Keeps her firmly tucked against his body and closes his eyes, closes his mind to everything but the moment. Lets himself fully appreciate what he has, how truly fortunate he really is.

They pull apart quite naturally, but he feels the sting as it happens. A quizzical expression meets him as he opens his eyes again, the hug well and truly over.

"I love you," is all he gives her by way of explanation, along with a tiny shrug.

It doesn't matter though, because she knows. She gets him. She doesn't need to ask, to pressure. Instead she rests her head against his shoulder, slips an arm around his waist as they meander back towards the large tree overhanging the other side of the cove. It's perfect.

Maybe it's the landscape, maybe it's the fine weather or the complete solitude, Boyd doesn't know, but today he feels an odd edge of emotion welling inside him, as though the colours are a bit brighter, the things he feels a bit more intense, the thoughts in his head a bit more… emotional.

In the shade, blanket spread on the warm sand, Grace sits and stretches out her legs, flexing her ankles as she sips water. They haven't got a full meal with them, but she's got fruit and snacks and without even knowing, asking, she wordlessly hands him a pear, takes another for herself.

Biting into the juicy fruit Boyd wanders to the water's edge, dips a toe in. Nods to himself, deciding that he will have a swim in a bit. Leaning back against the trunk of the enormous tree, he takes another bite and allows himself a moment to ponder what's made him so thoughtful today. Why the pear tastes so much more like a pear should. Why the scent of the water and the flowers is so rich. Why when he looks at her it's like he's never laid eyes on her before and she's stealing his breath all over again.

When they get back to their room after dinner tonight…

Abandoning the lake view, Boyd turns to study his lover. She's lying back now, eyes closed, utterly unperturbed by anything. The way she switches off, lets everything else go…

He can't wait. Tonight is so very far away, and she's an enchantress. She must be, he's sure of it.

Blue eyes flicker open as he kneels beside her, casts a shadow over her face. Gentle laughter escapes her lips as she lifts a hand to his cheek, brings his palm to rest over her heart, against the swell of her breast. It's only as he leans down for that first sweet, lingering kiss that Boyd realises, though. Grace knew before he did.

Grace always knows.

…

Naked beneath him, Grace shudders at the ecstasy his touch brings, at the blurry, nowhere place he drives her to as his voice whispers in her ear, as he chokes and gasps, and falls into the deep, deep realms of heady, erotic pleasure with her.

Unexpected, yet not.

The sudden freedom health has brought them… and the surging, wondrous spike of desire with it…

They revel in it, both of them.

Grace feels more alive than she has in years.

Inhaling the scent of him – fading soap and aftershave mixed with sunscreen and a hint of sweat – she keeps her eyes tightly closed and focuses on what she can feel, what she can hear.

Boyd is hot and heavy on top of her, inside her still, but it's far from unpleasant. She feels loved, secure; adored even, as he clutches at her, still trembling in the aftermath. Overhead a bird squawks imperiously and another caws back – a flap of wings and the harsh rustle of feather sound like a mid-air tussle; seagulls fighting over some treasured morsel, perhaps.

The sun is warm, hot even, and it's all too easy to let laziness take over, to refute the idea of moving. The water splashing gently at the shore helps, the sound lulling her yet further towards a doze. They had a late night yesterday, choosing to stay out and watch a street parade with its bright colours and exotic scents, tumblers performing tricks and musicians walking with their drums and pipes and horns.

It was worth it though, the energy of the whole thing leaving her thrilled and breathless; temporarily wrapped up in a new culture and new sights, thoroughly appreciating this beautiful corner of the world.

It's taken them long enough, but getting away for a while is… everything she wanted. A chance to escape. To breathe freely. To be together, without the pressing nature of London life and endless lists of things to do.

Her phone is turned off and stuffed in the bottom of her suitcase which is shoved under their ridiculously comfortable hotel bed. Boyd's too, at her request.

He acquiesced within a second, his attention entirely snared by the luxury of rich cotton sheets and the captivating task of slowly peeling the layers from her skin, rendering her bare before him with all the hours the night could offer stretching out before them, and no real need to rise in the morning if they chose not to.

That slow pace, that indulgence of doing whatever they wish… that's what she has been craving for so long now.

Being alone, uninterrupted.

So very far from London.

The city has changed her life, offered her things she never even dreamed about – given her him – but she's never wanted to stay there. Never liked the constant press of humanity, the lack of true silence.

That the clouds have changed is the first thing Grace notices when she eventually opens her eyes. The heat has lessened a fraction, and her lover is curled beside her, his heavy limbs around her in a possessive, protective embrace.

It's a fairly standard way to find him when she wakes now, but she never tires of it. Never stops hoping it won't end.

They've slept a while, she thinks, judging by the position of the sun and the stiffness in her muscles. Sand, she remembers, is always nice to fall asleep on, but never so comfy to wake to.

Boyd mumbles, stirs when she runs her fingers through his hair. Sighs and blinks his eyes open as he brushes his lips over her shoulder, picks his fingers through the buttons of her dress where it is lying open beneath her.

Leaning up on an elbow, he grins down at her, suddenly wide awake and clearly very pleased with himself. Memory has returned with consciousness, it seems, and Grace can't fail to notice the hungry way his eyes travel over her skin, the way his palm follows in their wake as if to make sure every curve feels as good as he remembers.

Judging by his reaction, it does. Laughing, she sits up and reaches for the flask she packed in the tote. It has fruit juice in it, still cold, its sweetness refreshing as it hits her lips. Grace drinks her fill and then offers it to Boyd, who sips and swallows, lowers the container and smiles. Kisses the nape of her neck, tastes the lobe of her ear.

"Have you got any of those pastries we had yesterday? I'm starving!"

It takes effort to resist the urge to roll her eyes. He's always hungry.

She has, and they divide them, picking crumbs from the blanket as they fall, and laughing as they share idle chatter.

Despite the heady moment that caught them, they're not exhibitionists, and so they slip into swimwear and venture into the lake, wading into the crystal depths and appreciating the cooling water against the sun's unrelenting warmth.

She paddles about, watching the bottom, and then swims gently out to the curve of rocks that forms the barrier of the little cove they've found. Boyd powers through the water, disappears beneath it; emerges to hoist himself up onto the rocks before catapulting himself into the air and plunging below the surface, showering her in a deluge of spray.

Grace doesn't scold, only smiles at his antics. It's wonderful to see him so relaxed, reverting to the playful nature that hides beneath the choking cloak of authority and responsibility. And as she watches she indulges, for there is muscle and skin on display and she's far from ashamed of enjoying it.

Afternoon waxes into evening, and they alternate wandering along the beach, exploring the little cove and the rocks, admiring the large, leafy tree overhanging the water, with taking dips in the cooling, refreshing water as the heat continues even as the sun sinks low on the horizon. Tiny moments where he takes her hand, caresses each finger in turn. Or when he finds a lizard and is filled with all the glee of a little boy upon making such a discovery.

The fierce red and orange rays ripple across the water as the sun seems to sink into the watery depths, and that's when Grace feels Boyd's arms wrap around her as he settles behind her on the towel once more. It's romantic, she can't deny. Sitting and watching the day end in front of them, coloured light flaring out across the sky, reflecting magnificently across the stillness of the lake. Not the traditional seaside holiday he wanted, but close enough. More than.

Grace feels incredibly at peace, and judging by the stillness of the man holding her, by the slow, steady pattern of movement she can feel where his chest is resting against her back, so does he.

Twilight takes hold, and with it the delights of watching bats appear, swooping and darting through the gloom. Grace picks her way along the rocks again and finds a perch on a smooth, flat surface to watch, entranced. Boyd, too warm again, meanders into the water and sits down, waist deep and sighing in relief.

It really couldn't get any more idyllic she muses, swinging her legs and letting a big toe graze the surface of the lake as the merest suggestion of a breeze stirs her tousled hair. Somewhere nearby crickets are chirruping, their sound forming a natural kind of music as it mingles with the lapping of tiny waves and the muted whistle of the almost-breeze. Resting her head back against the still warm rock, Grace falls into a kind of daze as the bats dart overhead, clearing the skies of tiny insects.

Peaceful, idyllic. Beautiful.

The earth moves, shattering it all.

An explosion roars, deafening her as she startles and shrieks, toppling from her perch into the now chilly water below, momentarily disappearing below the surface. When she emerges, coughing and spluttering, chaos reigns. Water is splashing everywhere as Boyd rampages, bellowing at the top of his lungs.

It's a pained cry, she thinks, half blind and desperately trying to clear the water from her face, to get a grip on her thoughts. But it makes no sense. He was fine a few seconds ago.

Still storming about, he's making it very difficult for her to see what's going on, and the noise level doesn't help her focus either. It's all madness and her head pounds, but then suddenly everything aligns and it all makes sense, because there, as he twists and thrashes in front of her, clinging to the front of Boyd's swimming shorts in a most inopportune place and dangling by one long pincered claw, is a small but still impressively strong-gripping crab.

Despite the dire straits of the situation, Grace can't help herself; she begins to laugh.

It's a mistake, and she knows it instantly, as thunder booms from the man himself and she wades backwards out of his flailing, glowering reach, but really, she asks herself, what else can she possibly do?


End file.
